you took first steps on the white triangular marble floor.

looked into your reflection and saw daddy's eyes wrinkle with joy. 

you thought at that moment daddy wont leave your side unless god thought he wasnt worthy of you.

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder,but what if the beholder is an old blind man sat on a deserted bench in central park waiting to find the beauty that the eye cant even begin to imagine, that the eye cant see,that the hands cant touch, that the ears cant hear.

The kind of beauty that the heart can feel.

it gets dark sometimes,and I begin to wonder if its the same darkness that you chose to run away from.

its empty like the glass you left on the counter,the glass i left and peered from the dining table waiting for something or someone to move it.

to move it so i have hope.

hope that im still your little girl.

hope that one day the scars you've left me will be healed by ..

one.

dear..something or someone

im still a little girl inside with broken promises.

be gentle.